


Catching Feelings

by softspacedad



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softspacedad/pseuds/softspacedad
Summary: It had been established from the start that their relationship was purely sexual, that they were simply two tired and broken souls finding temporary solace in each other. If it was clear to both of them that Hank cared a little more than that, he never said anything about it, out of fear of ruining what they had. However, this particular morning, Hank’s feelings were not the ones at risk of being hurt. Barry woke up in Hank’s bed in the stash house and caught himself staring at his peaceful sleeping expression a little longer than he should have.
Relationships: Barry Berkman/NoHo Hank
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Catching Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the song "sex (catching feelings)" by eden, and my goal was to have Barry fight for Hank, because truly he doesn't deserve him unless he redeems himself. Also, every mistake in Hank's English is done on purpose. Thanks once again to alekstraordinary for the proof-reading. Enjoy!

_And what's good when both choices I've got have us staring down the barrel to the bullets I can't stop?_

This was not the first time that Barry had woken up in someone else’s bed having forgotten how he got there in the first place. As a rule, he was not particularly prone to drinking, but something about being naked in front of somebody else made him so scared that he felt he needed something to relax himself and put his walls down. In fact, when Barry really thought about it, he barely could remember the last time that he slept with someone sober, or even remembered who the person was the next day. On this particular morning however, it only took him a few moments to get his bearings: he quickly recognized the cozy decoration of the room, the few houseplants, and of course, the large windows of the stash house. The remnants of the previous night’s drinking left the familiar humming of a migraine in his head, and he closed his eyes briefly before slowly turning his head to the side and...there he was. 

When Barry started sleeping with Hank, he never intended it to happen more than once. He hadn’t even intended for it to happen _once_. And yet there they had been, a few months ago, after a long day of training the Chechens in the desert, when Hank had invited Barry for a drink with him, and, for a reason still unknown to either of them to this day, Barry had agreed. Maybe it had been the pressure of his double life, the fact that he didn’t really feel like coming home to Sally, or maybe he had grown to enjoy Hank’s presence-- despite only showing him annoyance. What brought him to say yes to the invitation mattered very little, or at least not as much as its consequences. They spent a good few hours at some cheap Los Angeles bar where the lights were low and the clients few. At first, it was awkward between them, they had never spoken much outside of their usual work setting. But slowly, conversation came easier to them, and as their tongues untied, they also intertwined. Even if someone were to put a gun to his head, which wouldn’t be a first, Barry could not tell them who initiated the first kiss, but he remembers the sweatiness, the itchiness of Hank’s car seats, their breaths stinking of alcohol merging together, Hank’s gentleness and the feeling of relief that came with months of tension dissolving at once. 

Over the course of the months that followed, Barry thought anything and everything about his relationship with Hank. He felt shame, lust, confusion, but most importantly, comfort. After their first night together, Barry’s only wish was to get as far away from the other man as humanly possible. He simply did not wish to acknowledge what had happened, or what it meant. But he did not leave; he stayed, because he realized that he had never found comfort like he did being in Hank’s presence. He felt safe, listened to, cared for, and known. Hank was one of the rare people who knew all the different sides of him, and yet, he never judged, never mocked. He looked at Barry with such tenderness in his eyes-- how could anyone leave that behind? And so, in the midst of all the messiness, Barry and Hank had kept sleeping together. For the sake of their working lives and their safety, the whole thing had been kept a secret. They would see each other at the stash house after carefully acted out “business meetings”, or at Barry’s apartment when Sally was gone (which happened more and more often as Barry grew careless of her). It had been established from the start that their relationship was purely sexual, that they were simply two tired and broken souls finding temporary solace in each other. If it was clear to both of them that Hank cared a little more than that, he never said anything about it, out of fear of ruining what they had. However, this particular morning, Hank’s feelings were not the ones at risk of being hurt. Barry woke up in Hank’s bed in the stash house and caught himself staring at his peaceful sleeping expression a little longer than he should have. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight of Hank’s seemingly perfect face, a slight smile floating on his lips. “ _I wonder what he’s dreaming about,_ ” Barry thought, before pushing the idea away and sitting up, his back to Hank. 

He let out a cough to try to ease the pain in his chest, but it didn’t help. He had suffered enough wounds in his life to know when the pain was more than physical. No, this simply could not be. He might have grown to despise Hank less than he used to, but there was no way he could… Barry didn’t allow himself to finish his train of thoughts, got up, put his clothes back on, and left the room quietly, suddenly not feeling brave enough to face Hank. He knew that there was going to have to be a time for him to address what had been sprouting in his heart for the past few weeks, but for the moment, he was headed to the acting class to pretend to be someone else, at least for one more time.

_And I've always been this heartless_

_And we were just having sex no I would never call it love_

_But love_

_Oh no, I think I'm catching feelings_

During the days that followed, Hank tried reaching out to Barry a few times-- to no avail. Barry was aware that there was also a business side to their relationship, and an agreement he had to honour if he didn’t want Hank to send the Chechens after him, but he also had the certainty that for the moment, he had nothing to fear from Hank. So he coated himself in denial, avoiding Hank as much as possible, and burying himself in acting work and social activities. He even took Sally out on a fancy date, which he had never done in the past. For a while, it felt good, organic, easy. All he had to do was leave his hitman life behind and the stinging in his heart would go away. That’s all he had ever wanted: a normal life. A nice job, an interesting hobby, friends, a girlfriend. So, why did he dream about tattooed arms wrapping around his waist and compliments in broken English falling into his ear?

Unfortunately, what Barry had feared came to be one fateful afternoon, in the form of Hank waiting for him outside of his apartment, leaning against his car, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. He didn’t seem to relax even when his eyes met Barry’s, and they stayed silent as they walked up the stairs to the apartment that had been the scene of so many moments much sweeter than this one. Barry knew that Nick and Jermaine were still practicing their acts with Mr. Cousineau, so he let Hank follow him. A million thoughts were rushing through his head as he watched Hank step into the apartment, take off his jacket and go sit at the edge of Barry’s bed with a familiarity that ran a shiver down his spine. What were they going to talk about? What if this was the end for Barry, and the entire Chechen mafia was about to burst through his front door and take him down? Somehow, the worst scenario in Barry’s head was not his possible death, but rather that Hank might have come all the way here to tell him that they could never see each other again. Barry carefully stepped into his bedroom as well, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Hank. There wasn’t much physical distance between them, and yet it felt like an ocean. Neither of them broke the silence for an eternity, before Hank said in a voice that was quite out of character, too neutral with a hint of disappointment:

“If you do not want to see me anymore, I don’t know what happened but I can be okay. What is not okay is for you to leave my men without training. You promised to give me army, and you have to keep your end of the bargain.” 

“You’re...no, you’re right,” Barry said, hesitantly, “I just needed to clear my head for a few days. I don’t know what’s been going with me, but I am not one to break promises. Things can go back to normal soon,” he started, before catching himself, “with training your men, I mean. Not for...you know.”

And in that moment, the pain that made Hank’s eyes shimmer nearly could have broken Barry’s heart. But he knew that he was doing the right thing. Their arrangement had been all fine and well, but feelings were always messy. There was no way that this whole thing was not going to end with one of them dead, and they had both known it from the start. What had made their relationship so great was the danger, the forbidden aspect of it, and the unspoken agreement that it started already with an expiration date. Barry tried to repeat those facts to himself to ease the guilt he felt watching Hank’s head hang low. Oh, how easy it would be to extend his hand, grab Hank’s chin and lift his sad head up. But Barry’s hands remained nervously joined on his lap. 

“I cannot say that I am surprised,” Hank started, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “but I wish I knew why now, all of sudden. Have I done something to hurt you, Barry?” 

“No, you haven’t,” the softness in Barry’s tone surprising them both. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep seeing each other like this, given the fact that I…”

“Yes?”

“No, it’s nothing, never mind.”

Barry tore his eyes away from Hank, but looked back in confusion when he heard a chuckle.

“Barry, you know that I think you are fantastic actor. But even I can tell that you are lying. What is happening? Tell me.”

“Hank...I…I like you. And I don’t know what to do about that.”

Barry felt a sense of shame overwhelm him. What was he thinking? Admitting that out loud, like Hank was some sort of middle school crush to him. It felt so wrong to be giving in to emotions, when he was so used to hiding everything he felt or did. Maybe it was because he had basked in Hank’s positive presence for too long, or maybe trying to become an actor had taught him a thing or two about honesty. But at that moment, he was not able to keep his stupid feelings for himself. And along with shame, he felt intense regret when he saw Hank’s face tense up, his lips becoming a straight line, and his eyes shifting away from Barry’s gaze.

They stayed like this for a long time, sitting in silence, at the edge of the bed. The only thought going through Barry’s mind was that he wished he could grab one of his knives to cut the tension in the room. He stared at Hank’s face in search of answers, but there were no emotions there to be deciphered. Hank’s eyes were fixed outside, and as Barry followed his gaze, he realized that Hank was staring at the rooftop opposite his apartment, the exact rooftop from which Hank had tried to kill him all those months ago, the exact rooftop where they had decided to start working together. Yes, this rooftop. Barry couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Hank’s mind: was he reminiscing about all the good times they had had together? Or was he wishing that Akhmar hadn’t missed his shot to kill Barry that day?

_Cause you’ve been staring at that roof so long, I swear it’s come alive_

_No, i don’t know how to forget you_

In the end, Hank had not spoken another word, and after a few minutes of silence, had simply gotten up and left. It had now been a few weeks since Barry’s confession, and they hadn’t come in contact. It was driving Barry crazy, not knowing what Hank was thinking, especially since he was usually so loud, saying absolutely everything that was on his mind, telling Barry every single little thing that had happened to him. And if Barry often rolled his eyes at Hank’s crazy stories, he was now missing them dearly as silence settled in his life. He became so distracted and lost in thought that he barely noticed Sally shouting at him that she was done with him, and her leaving for good. He was slacking off in Mister Cousineau’s acting class, now that anyone noticed since he wasn’t particularly a brilliant student in the first place. He didn’t even have work to get his mind off of things, since Fuches was mad at him for working with Hank behind his back, and Hank...well. 

So he just laid around in bed all day, wondering what to do next. It’s not that Hank’s rejection would put him in such a state, he was a grown man, after all. But it was the not knowing, the being ignored, and the realizing that he truly didn’t have anyone who loved him for everything that he was. And maybe that was his fault more than it was anybody else’s. This fact sent him spiraling in hours and hours of self-doubt and introspection. Barry spent a lot of his time asking himself and others if he was a good person. But had he ever made the steps towards being one? Had he ever pushed past the simple act of wondering? However, one thing was for sure: Barry was one lonely dude.

It’s only after what must have been a month of moping around that Barry decided to take action. He was going to confront Hank, no matter the outcome. He was an ex-marine and a hitman, for Christ’s sake, he was not going to let one heartbreak derail his entire life. At this point, he was surprised that no Chechen had come knocking down his door to take him out, since he was clearly not holding his end of the bargain anymore. He still needed to get that out of the way, if he wanted to settle into a normal life, the life he had originally chosen, a life away from crime. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that, perhaps, he would have been fine with embracing the darker side of his life if Hank had been by his side.

The only thing that Barry could think to do may have seemed irrational, but he felt out of options. So, he marched down to the stash house, a gun safely tucked under his belt behind his back, just in case things went South. Barry entered the building to find a few Chechens and Bolivians working on cargo shipments; he walked past them, and if some noticed his presence, they didn’t seem to mind, as most of them knew him. So he kept on walking, to reach the little room on the side that served as an office for Hank, Cristobal and Esther. As he stepped in however, Esther was nowhere to be found, but Cristobal was very much there, standing a little too close to Hank, a flirty smirk floating on his lips and a hand resting gently on Hank’s right arm. Barry coughed lightly to make his presence known, and his gaze was met by Hank’s wide eyes and Cristobal’s condescending look. The silence lasted a few moments between the three men, before Cristobal let out a sigh and said, “I will leave you two to talk.” He then stroked Hank’s cheek lightly without breaking eye-contact with Barry, and walked away.

Barry stepped closer to Hank, his blood boiling and his brain a complete mess.

“What is going on between you two?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended, jealousy and despair clouding his vision. He needed to snap out of whatever was going on, he had never been this desperate and he was not particularly enjoying it.

“It is none of your business, Barry,” Hank said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“If you think I’m gonna fight that Cristobal guy over you, you’re wrong. We’re not teenagers, and I simply came over here to get some answers, and get everything sorted out. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Barry’s words were turning sour, and part of his brain was yelling at him to stop-- he had planned to come over here to get the truth out of Hank, not to hurt him. But his bruised ego was taking over, and he felt incapable to stop turning every terrible thing he thought about himself against Hank. 

“I knew it,” Hank scoffed, “I knew you were liar.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think one of the answers you want to get is why I haven’t been talking to you, yes?” Hank continued. “It is because I didn’t believe you. You don’t like me, Barry Berkman, you just hate to be alone. You didn’t mean what you said.”

“But I did!” Barry interjected, “I do, and I am so sorry that I was an asshole to you for so long. But I think I was just afraid of letting you see me. I was afraid of becoming close to someone who belonged to the world I was trying to escape from. Do you remember when I told you that I don’t take any pleasure in killing? Do you remember when I asked you if you thought I was a good person, and you answered with such eagerness that you thought I was “super evil”, like it was a compliment?”

Hank nodded. Barry continued, his anger melting and a myriad of emotions spilling out of him without restraint.

“I was mad at you for that, but I shouldn’t have been. Now, I understand that you really see me. I’m not a good person. I’ve killed way more people than I can even remember. But you’re not particularly a saint either. You got most of these tattoos in jail, right? And yet, you’re still the best person I’ve ever known. Because you don’t lie, you don’t shy away from everything that you are, crime and passion alike. You and I, we’re both kind of trapped in this crime world, aren’t we? So, why shouldn’t we be trapped together?”

Barry took a deep breath, and dropped his arms along his sides. A few moments passed, but Hank was still standing in front of him, his arms crossed and his face closed. Barry had done everything he could, been more honest than he had ever been in his entire life, and yet this wasn’t enough to fix his mistakes. Maybe Hank was right to not forgive him. He had forgiven him countless times before, and this was simply the last straw. Who thought that one of his rare moments of honesty would be his demise, Barry thought as he turned around to leave the stash house for a final time. 

But as he was about to step out of the office, he felt two strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Hank’s head between his shoulder blades. 

“You really mean what you said?” Hank said, his voice muffled by Barry’s shirt.

“Y...yes, I do.” Barry answered, breath catching in his throat.

“Trapped together, and all?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’d like that,” Hank said, with sunshine in his voice.


End file.
